


Of a Sickly Nature

by BWolf_20



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comic Spoiler, Explicit Language, Gen, Prisoner of War, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWolf_20/pseuds/BWolf_20
Summary: Negan ended up imprisoned in Rick's community when he had expected to be killed. He fears his death may be possible now when he starts to feel the symptoms of an illness coming on, and he knows the chances of receiving help from Rick and his people are highly unlikely.  (comic spoiler!)





	Of a Sickly Nature

**Author's Note:**

> I find the idea of Rick keeping Negan a prisoner in jail interesting. The fact that they're keeping one of the biggest villains alive by giving him food, letting him bathe, giving him clothing, etc. It got me wondering what would happen if Negan were to get sick. As it got more serious would they let it be the thing to kill him? They really could've killed him by letting him starve to death if anything, so why bother doing anything at all.

“Fuck”

If there was one thing you didn’t want to be nowadays, it was sick. Negan wouldn’t say he was sick. Just because he felt more tired than usual, and coughed on occasion didn’t mean he was sick. He was fine and always would be, especially now that he was a prisoner of the Alexandrians. So if he could handle being stuck in a damn cell around the clock, then he could definitely fight off a potential illness. Since it had all gone to shit he hadn’t so much as sniffled from a runny nose.

“Fuck”

Several harsh coughs tore from his throat as he turned over on his cot facing the bars. The sun was streaming through the small window above alerting him to another morning but to hell with it. He in no way felt like getting up. There wasn’t any point to getting up anyways. Just get up to sit on his cot to stare at the damn bars until someone came around with lunch or dinner. That was about as eventful as things got for him, unless the little serial killer came around.

He sighed heavily as a few more rough coughs erupted, then he laid a hand on his forehead; definitely warm damn it. 

Well there was nothing for it. If he was getting sick, there was nothing he could do about it. There was no chance Rick would bother getting him meds. Even after becoming captive, Rick still gave him that stink eye, so Negan knew he was fucked.

He pulled the thin sheet up to his chin and tried to relax his body. Resting was also a way to cure a sickness, but god did he hate sitting still even though he was in a position to sit still all the time. He shut his eyes and tried not to think about the achy feeling in his muscles. God he could just go to sleep right now, if it weren’t for the coughing.

 

Sometime later he heard a metallic knock on the cell bars. He knew without looking that someone had come to deliver his lunch. He pulled down the cover and saw Aaron standing there grim faced, with a simple looking sandwich on a paper plate. 

“I specifically ordered a fucking omelet.”

“Tough,” Aaron snapped. He was never in the mood for his jokes.

Negan sat up, maintaining the usual grin he’d have on his face for visitors, but then it was broken by a sudden stream of coughs. He paused for a moment before getting to his feet. 

“Something wrong with you?” Aaron asked, though he sounded as though he could care less. 

“I’m just fine and dandy, except I am lacking a little fresh air.”

“Get used to it.” Aaron folded the paper plate with the sandwich and slid it through the bars. Once Negan took it, Aaron turned on his heels and left.

“What? No beer to wash it down?” he called after him, but he received no response.

It was a normal response anyways. Most visitors wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. He got it, but it never prevented him from trying to engage them in small talk or a joke. 

Negan crossed back to his bed just as another fit of coughs hit him. He really didn’t feel hungry now. In fact he felt a little queasy. Not bothering to see what kind of sandwich it was, he set the plate on the floor since he didn’t have a table, and he had requested one a few times.

He sat for a moment, waiting for the coughs to stop. He felt even more tired now and the slight pains in his muscles were becoming more pronounced. It wasn’t possible to deny it now; he was getting sick, but that didn’t mean he had to let the whole world know.

“Damn.”

 

Several hours passed, though Negan was unaware as he had fallen asleep. Another harsh knock on the bars alerted him that he had a visitor. For a moment he just laid there. He didn’t feel energetic enough to face whoever it was. 

“Sorry, no solicitors, or did that sign fall again?”

When he received no response he turned over to see Aaron had returned carrying another paper plate with a sandwich that looked worse than the first. 

“I see you still didn’t fulfill my order of the omelet.” 

But Aaron didn’t answer. He was staring at him pretty hard.

“Are you getting sick?”

Negan gave nothing away in his reaction.

“What makes you say that?”

Aaron was quiet for a moment before he slipped the plate between the bars.

“Here’s your damn dinner.”

“Just leave it, I’ll get it later.” He really wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way over there.

Aaron didn’t make a move just yet. Instead his eyes fell to the uneaten sandwich on the floor. Wordlessly he slid the plate between the bars on the floors and quietly walked away. 

Negan eyed the sandwich, willing himself to get up and get it since he hadn’t eaten all day. But it just wasn’t appetizing enough. What did it matter if he missed a day on eating anyways? He cursed and pulled the cover over his head. Now that he’d been given his dinner, he could rest for the rest of the night uninterrupted.

 

The day passed into two and nothing had changed. In fact Negan felt himself getting weaker and the coughs were becoming unbearable. In that time he barely managed to nibble a few bites of food before finding he couldn’t stomach enough to get himself full. He was just so exhausted mentally and physically that much of his time was spent lying on the cot sleeping or attempting to sleep. A pounding headache never helped either. There was no denying that he was definitely sick now, but no matter how many times Aaron dropped by he never bothered to asks for meds. He knew what the answer would be. In fact he knew Aaron had caught on that something was wrong with him, and since the man hadn’t bothered to bring drugs on one of his visits it was clear he wouldn’t be getting any. 

Negan wasn’t surprised. If anything he was surprised Aaron hadn’t rounded up the gang to watch as he slowly died of illness. He knew that’s what they wanted, to see him dead.

Several harsh coughs erupted from his throat creating a fiery feel that had him groaning. If it kept up this way, it wouldn’t be long before they got their wish.

Negan sighed and cursed as he willed himself to go back to sleep but he was just too uncomfortable to do so.

Then for the briefest of moments, he imagined sitting over his sickly wife. It had been a long time since he thought back to that day and it made him wonder if he was really going out of the fucking world like this.

 

“You’re sick.”

Since Negan wasn’t facing outward, he didn’t see who had stopped by, but he recognized the little serial killer’s voice right away. He was about to play it off as he’d been doing, but a string of coughs dampened any form of upcoming humor. It was pointless to lie about it now anyways.

“What gave it away?” he asked, disgusted by how frail and raspy his voice sounded. 

When the kid didn’t answer, he turned over in his cot to face him. Said kid was giving him quite the serious stare. 

“Jesus kid, didn’t I…(cough cough).. tell you to…(cough cough)… lighten up once?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Negan sighed as he forced himself to sit up. The cell span as he made the movement, so he paused and made sure to move slowly. 

“Nothing I can’t shake off in a day or two so you can take your get well cards back.”

Carl just scoffed.

“I don’t give a damn about you.”

“Which is why you’re checking up on me?” he said with a chuckle, but Carl just continued to frown. 

“If you’re dying, I wanna be there to see it.”

Negan wasn’t surprised to hear such a comment. On occasion when the kid visited, he usually made sure to remind him that he still wanted him dead. He dropped his head as a sudden string of coughs erupted.   
His chest was starting to throb in pain along with them.

“You’re gonna be damn disappointed kid.”

God did his head hurt. He ran a hand over his forehead and wanted nothing more than to crash back down on the cot, but the last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of the kid.

“So, what’s wrong with you?”

Negan started to speak but choked on his words as a harsh cough broke through. It was powerful enough to hurt his throat.

“Damn…” He leaned against the wall and released a heavy breath. “Can’t say. Some fucked up cold.”

“Sounds worse than a cold.”

“What are you my goddamn doctor?” He really didn’t feel like doing this now even though he always appreciated Carl’s visits. “You should be happy. After all this time…(cough, cough, cough)…I’m finally fucked up.”

“You’re always fucked up,” Carl snapped.

He would’ve laughed, but he felt he lacked the air to do it.

“Listen…kid…why don’t we do this another time hmm? I don’t feel like making fun of your…one eye right now.”

He shut his eyes and just breathed slowly, hoping the kid would get the message and beat it. After a moment he heard his retreating footsteps. 

For the time being he simply sat there with his head resting back against the wall. Considering how much worse it was getting, he wondered if he should bother to ask for meds. Then again, he had asked for several things before and had been denied. 

He cursed the idea and slowly laid down. The cell was making him a softy. He wasn’t so weak that he needed their help anyways, so fuck them. 

Still, to go out from a fucking fever was fucking ridiculous.

 

A few hours passed and Negan was lying on his back with an arm covering his eyes, feeling like death was just lurking below the surface. The heat was rising and he was sweating fiercely. He felt exhausted enough to sleep but couldn’t. 

At one point he found himself checking his arms and the rest of his body, believing somehow he’d been bitten. He’d been in the company of a man that had been bitten once, and it hadn’t been long before the fever hit. He supposed this was what it felt like. The dead brought on a fever, but he had no bite marks so he wasn’t sure how he’d even gotten in this position to begin with.

Then Negan started to chuckle as he thought up a wild scenario in which all the Alexandrians were making some sickly person cough all over the food they were going to feed him, meaning it to be some lame way of executing him without wasting a bullet. 

“Clever Rick,” he muttered. “Very fucking clever.”

It started to feel more possible. Why would Rick want to keep him alive anyway? He had explained, but after so much time it didn’t make sense. 

The room was starting to feel quite hot, and there was the threat of suffocating in it. Things felt fuzzy in Negan’s mind and suddenly it didn’t seem possible that his fate resulted in him being locked in a cell. It was about as ludicrous as the living dead. 

Maybe it had all been some kind of weird purgatory before something decided he should move on to hell. He hoped that wasn’t the case, because it meant he wouldn’t see Lucille again. If it wasn’t the case, then he’d see her again. 

Either way, it was troubling, and a little frightening. When the world had gone to shit, he had managed to become a man everyone should fear. Nothing scared him anymore, except the prospect of dying and facing failure.

“Sorry…Lucille,” he muttered in a broken raspy voice. 

It had all gone wrong.

Too many things had gone wrong and he hadn’t been able to see it until it was too late.

And soon he was floating, and the horrible growls of the dead were echoing in his ears. He could feel them all around. They were grabbing at him, pulling at his clothes. He fell hard and groaned from the impact.  
The growling echoed loudly but instead of getting to his feet, he simply rolled onto his back again. He couldn’t run anyhow. He was much too tired and he was starting to shiver violently. He couldn’t see properly.

Things were blurry and the heat was rising.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Death was all around him. 

He muttered something to the screaming dead, but he wasn’t even sure what he’d said to them. He hoped he told them to fuck themselves. It was just as good as the parting phrase of “Suck my nuts”. 

His head was exploding. He couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t want to think anyway. He didn’t want to feel either. He tried to take a final breath but it wasn’t happening.

This was it. It was over. He was going to be eaten, he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. A small, very small part of himself thought maybe he deserved it; or maybe his brain had stop functioning to think rationally. 

The fire was burning him from the inside out and the dead wouldn’t stop screaming. 

It wouldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

Screaming

Screaming…

 

Then the fire shifted for something cool. Something soft and cool stemming from his forehead. 

He couldn’t hear the screaming dead, but there were voices. One was gruff and echoing right above him, but he was too tired to open his eyes to see who it was. He tried asking, even though he couldn’t think properly about what words to say.

He heard a voice clearly this time, but couldn’t recognize it.

“Lucille?”

“What’s he…talking…about?” 

“He’s…hallucinating,” another voice said.

“…should…let him die…”

Negan swallowed and tried to breathe. He barely realized he was gasping. He could hear himself gasping because it had gone silent.

“Maybe I should.”

That voice, he knew that voice.

He blinked his eyes a few times and found himself staring up at Rick who wasn’t exactly giving him a friendly look. Crouched near him was Aaron who was messing with what he now recognized as a cool towel on his forehead.

“We’re not wasting our medicine on him,” Aaron declared. 

Negan had no energy to speak, so he shut his eyes again. He couldn’t understand what was happening anyway. Wasn’t he being surrounded by the dead a few minutes ago?

“Dad?”

He recognized Carl’s voice and slowly turned his head. He was standing just outside the cell, gun at his side. He turned away again and groaned. He was sure whatever the three wanted to do with him wasn’t going to be good. 

“No, we’re not wasting our meds on him if we don’t have to, but if he’s going to die it won’t be like this,” he heard Rick state. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Negan opened his eyes to see Rick swirling in his sights. 

“What the…fuck.” He couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening. “Rick? Well if this…isn’t a pleasure. What’re…you...doing in…hell?”

“This isn’t hell. You’re in the same place you’ve been for six months. You’re running a high fever.”

“That a fact.” He shut his eyes as he felt the need to just sleep.

“You knew you were sick,” he heard Aaron say. “And you didn’t say anything.”

Negan opened his eyes and thought back, recalling that he’d felt off. Yeah, he’d been sick, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. He hadn’t been surrounded by walkers. He was still in the same damn cell he’d always been in.   
Not that that had become clear, he considered his question and felt offended.

“What would…you have done? Nothing.”

The fact that silence was the reply was the only answer he needed.

“That’s possible,” Rick said after a moment. “Then again, I might have done something since I bothered to keep you alive this whole time. I told you you were going to die an old man in here.”

“Why…wait?”

He shut his eyes again, wishing for the pounding to die down in his head, wishing for the heat to go away.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

Negan groaned. He was much too tired for this now. They’d had him and knew it, so Rick certainly didn’t have to rub it in. He certainly didn’t view Rick as the type to kick a horse while it’s down.

“…fuck…” 

After a moment he heard the footsteps to indicate they were leaving. He opened his eyes and watched them exit silently. Rick turned back to lock the door and Negan desired very much to say something, but he didn’t have any form of strength to do much of anything. He met Rick’s eyes silently, and the man turned away without a word, followed by his son.

It was clear this was it. Of course Rick had zero intention of helping him. Negan got it. He knew it was a matter of time before Rick dropped the humane act. It just didn’t hold in this world. When you had enemies you kill them and that was it. 

Negan gave a soft laugh at the fact that it took a fever for Rick to wise up.

 

Negan wasn’t sure how long he laid there on the floor since Aaron, Rick, and Carl left. All he knew was that he still felt like shit. The towel on his forehead had long lost its coolness and he still didn’t feel comfortable enough to sleep properly. He knew he’d have a better chance at sleep if he got up and laid on the cot, but his legs just wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Fuck…”

Then the sound of footsteps alerted him, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes to see his visitor. Said person said nothing as he unlocked and opened the door to the cell. Negan tensed, momentarily wondering if it was decided that he should be put out of his misery. Well if he was about to be shot he’d rather not witness it. It sucked that it had come to this, but he figured he’d have relief soon enough.

The footsteps came to a stop by his side, and still the visitor had said nothing. He tensed up even more and worked his heat stricken mind for something to say.

Then there was the sound of something dropping near his head. Curious he opened his eyes and turned to see a cup of water on the floor next to him, and on a napkin a single white pill. He wandered his tired eyes to look up at Rick who was preparing to leave.

“Aww Rick…I’m touched,” he muttered, “…even though…you’re…fucking crazy.”

Rick paused at the cell door and gave a nod.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to think I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a 'what if' scenario, and I've no idea if Rick would really bother doing what he did in the end here. But I let myself get spoiled in the comics on Negan's fate, so if I'm remembering correctly, Rick wants him to die naturally of old age. Rick seems to be encouraging a sense of humanity by not letting the fever kill him off. But Rick's actions here were also highly inspired by Morgan who in a previous season brought Denise over to heal the Wolf prisoner he was secretly keeping. There's been talk about the idea of Rick embodying Morgan's philosophy of 'not killing' which seems hard to imagine, but at the same time I find that idea very interesting.


End file.
